


Synthesized Insecurities

by madnessmuse



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Threats, caustic being an overconfident jerk, pathfinder having abandonment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 00:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20034658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnessmuse/pseuds/madnessmuse
Summary: The robot was following him. For the third consecutive time in less than five point two days. It was an unnecessary inconvenience that was quickly becoming annoying.





	Synthesized Insecurities

At first it was merely annoying, another inconvenience that plagued Alexander's life born from the hassle that came naturally with 'roommates'. Through the power of the talkative robot's strange perseverance, it had now become intolerable. 

No pathetic creature bothered Caustic. Not fellow (ultimately narrow minded and dull witted) scientists, not pedestrians, not test subjects... 

And certainly not so called Legends. 

Caustic halted mid step, his grip on his all too empty coffee mug tightening. Having no time to rest the previous night was definitely adding to his frazzled nerves; he needed coffee, not cheerful small talk with one of mankind's most irritating creations. 

"Hello friend! In a better mood perhaps? Hmm, doubtful." The happy robotic synthesized voice pierced his eardrums, having the interesting effect of darkening his mood almost instantaneously. 

It was fascinating just how quickly the urge to maim could rise from so little input. 

"What. Do you want. Machine." It was a demand, not a question and the pathfinder knew it. 

"I want to be friends! From what little instructions I have, friends are made by communicating shared interests and comradely. You, Mr. Caustic Sir, have failed to display any friend-making abilities at all. Thankfully, I am willing to teach you!" 

Caustic was already walking, gravitating towards the kitchen. As soon as the word 'friend' was uttered out of the robots annoyingly frequently used auditor, he'd already tuned out the rest of the machines response. 

His hand reached out to grab the kettle - 

A hook sailed by, clamping onto the kettle with a sharp clank. 

A second later, Caustic was holding nothing but air while Pathfinder held up the sanctified coffee maker proudly as if it was a sacred trophy. 

"No can do, Mr. Caustic Sir. First you should do as I ask; I am only paying you a favor!" 

Alexander's eyes burned as he fixed his gaze on the robot. The circular glass of Pathfinders 'face' stared back at him, challenging. 

Never had the desire to kill been quite so strong. 

Taking a breath, the scientist did what he did best – analysis. 

Clearly the machine was too tall. Plus, it was doubtful he would be able to wrestle the kettle away the machine's steel grip. He was still only human. 

Threats of gassing would not work – Pathfinder lacked lungs after all. 

Insults then...? Amateurish, he would say, but there was a distinct possibility of a positive outcome. 

Despite the robot's overall happy, care-free demeanor, Caustic had been taking notes. 

It was necessary to scout out weaknesses in all his potential enemies, other Legends proving no exception. 

The robot's was simple; It lacked the security of a purpose. Of its creator's presence in its existence. 

A pathetically easy to spot target ripe for causing... a certain amount of distress in the test subject. 

"Hm. I see now why your manufacturer made the decision to abandon you, Pathfinder. It was a wise one." 

The machine's head tilted and the steel grip of its metallic flingers clenched ever so slightly tighter. Caustic had the distinct impression he was being glared at, despite the obnoxious emoticon below still smiling brightly. 

Interesting. The machine mimics human insecurity. What a fascinating experiment this was becoming. 

"After all," he continued, "you clearly lack the will to permanently maim a subject. You ask yourself why your maker left you behind, Pathfinder? The answer is obvious. They rightly surmised you were weak." 

He creeped closer towards the still machine, like a predator reaching injured prey. 

"They took one look at your insecure demeanor, your pathetic reliance on the kindness of strangers and ran to the furthest planet." 

He sneered, his disgust at this abomination clear. 

"You're lucky they made that decision, Pathfinder. Lucky that they didn't have you melted down to smelted metal and sold for -" He couldn't finish that sentence, his breath suddenly knocked out of his lungs. 

Metal fingers dug into his throat, lifting him up by the neck. Caustic choked, his fleshy, skin and bones hands prying at the clawlike hands. Even though it was factually pointless, Caustic pulled desperately at the metal, animalistic self preservation kicking in. 

Almost immediately, the scientist regretted his goading. This was not the correct reaction. Not even close. 

Looking down, he could see that the emoticon had indeed finally changed. It was one Alexander had never seen before. An expression of clear anger. 

His heartbeat thundered in his ears; he couldn't breathe, couldn't think clearly- 

"That wasn't very nice, 'friend'." The words held a painstakingly forced upbeat tone, the seething bitterness underneath obvious. 

Pathfinder clenched his other hand around the kettle, easily reducing it to scrap before dispassionately dropping it. 

"I'll prove you wrong on the battlefield very soon." The emoticon flashed to a smile, mocking in its innocent glee, before the robot swung him headfirst against the kitchen counter and his world faded to black.

**Author's Note:**

> Kettle abuse! Wanted to write something exploring Pathfinder's feelings and doubts about his creator. Meanie, 'no fun allowed', coffee deprived Caustic helped. Ending is rushed but *shrug* wanted to throw this out.


End file.
